


10x5 Coda

by remanth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean realizes a few things after seeing the musical version of Supernatural. Which prompts a late night call to Castiel</p>
            </blockquote>





	10x5 Coda

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely adored Fan Fiction, I thought it was a great episode. This is a coda to it.

It wasn’t until he was sitting in the crappy motel room in the dark, listening to Sam snoring in the next bed, that Dean let himself think about the musical again. Specifically the actresses playing Dean and Castiel. Well, not them themselves but what they represented. They were a couple playing two characters in a musical that definitely had some sexual tension. Dean could see it and was fairly certain it was basically a slap in the face to everyone watching. Subtext it may be but that subtext was screaming.

Which made him wonder, what subtext was he himself missing? Seeing a representation of Cas being so open and affectionate with someone who looked a hell of a lot like him made something twist and squirm in his gut. Which was why he’d waited so long to consider it. If he was going to have a chick flick moment, it was better done now, in the dark while Sam was sound asleep. To be honest, Dean had expected Sam to be a little more freaked out by the prospect rather than throwing names out at him. Or even considering himself and Cas. And that, if Dean were being honest, made a white-hot flash of anger erupt in his gut. Cas was _his_ not Sammy’s.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Cas was in no way, shape or form his, Dean shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed. He hooked one arm behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Two words tormented him: What if? What if the subtext that was so glaring in the musical, and the subtext that whispered quietly from the corners of his mind, had some sort of basis? Chuck was a prophet who had an inside line into their lives, after all. What if there was something Dean wasn’t picking up on? How did Cas feel about him, really? The angel chose him over an entire army of angels, his hope to take out Metatron. And, if he was honest with himself again, Cas had every right to kill him right then and there. At least from the angels’ point of view. Dean had been holding the knife that killed Tessa. For all intents and purposes, he _had_ killed Tessa just by showing her that he had a weapon.

And what did he feel for Cas anyways? He was a nerdy angel in a trenchcoat. Kinda dorky with blue eyes about yea high. And that stupid backwards tie that wasn’t backwards anymore. In fact, Cas almost never wore the tie because he left the top buttons on his shirt unbuttoned. Like Dean had told him on that not-date when he was human. Like he had when Dean had checked him out, in the interests of making sure he was ready for a date. Completely. Totally platonic watching out for a friend. Right.

Groaning quietly, Dean shifted again, turning onto his side. He thought about the two actresses linking hands and twining their fingers together. It looked so warm and intimate and comfortable, an action that spoke eloquently of their affection for each other. His fingers tingled and Dean clenched his left hand into a fist. Coincidentally the hand that “Dean” had held “Cas’s” hand with. He’d told the girl, too, during his little speech that totally wasn’t stolen from Rent to put as much subtext into it all as she could. Granted, he’d meant it for everyone but he’d specifically chosen her to direct it to. It had been automatic and was part of the reason he couldn’t sleep tonight. Why his fingers tingled and he wished, desperately, to call Cas.

Reaching for the phone he’d set on the nightstand earlier, Dean curled in on himself to hide the light from Sam. It probably wouldn’t wake his snoring moose of a brother but then again, it might. He flicked through the contacts until he reached Cas’s name, thumb hovering over it almost like a caress. Images flashed through his mind, laughing with Cas as they escaped the strip club, confronting Raphael and Cas shielding him from broken glass, watching Cas walk into that damn river and explode, finding him again as Emmanuel, finding Cas in Purgatory, losing Cas in Purgatory, finding him again on Earth and seeing the angel walk out of the bathroom back to his old self. Every memory Dean had of Castiel, the good, the bad, and the inescapably sad played through his mind. And made the decision for him. Dean’s thumb stabbed down on Cas’s name and the phone started dialing.

Groaning again, throat tightening at the words that threatened to spill out, Dean made himself go through with the call. He wasn’t going to act like some lovesick teenager, calling his crush and hanging up at the first syllable out of their mouth. He was going to go through with this and talk to Cas. The phone rang four times, Dean’s heart stopping after each ring. He held his breath, wondering if he really wanted Cas to pick up or not. In the middle of the fifth ring, the other line picked up.

“Dean?” Cas asked, voice gravelly and confused. Dean felt warm hearing it, warmth pooling in his belly and radiating out through his limbs. “Is something wrong?”

“For once, no,” Dean whispered, laughing softly. A particularly loud snore from Sam made him jump and look guiltily over at his little brother. But Sam was still out, hair flopped over his forehead and one arm falling off the bed. “I just, I just wanted to talk to you, man. I,uh, I figured a few things out, about…. About things and me and uh, just wanted to talk.”

“All right, Dean,” Cas replied, still confused but patient. “What do you want to talk about?”

“About… about us and what we’re going to do,” Dean blurted out before the words could freeze in his throat. He couldn’t go any further though, panting and trying to keep silent. Sam’s snores had finally stopped and Dean sent a silent thank you to whatever snoring gods were listening.

“What we’re going to do about what?” Cas asked. He fidgeted impatiently on the other end of the line, a feeling like lightning walking across his skin overtaking him. This felt momentous and Cas knew it wasn’t as simple as the words might suggest. But he’d give Dean an out, hearing the fear in his voice. He’d give Dean a chance to not be ready yet.

“Look, man, I’m not good with all this crap,” Dean huffed out, voice hoarse. He scrubbed his free hand over his face, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. “But let’s just say a few things got pointed out to me today and I want… well… you. Us. Maybe. If you um, you know, feel like you might… um… want me? Us?”

“I think this might be a conversation better held in person, Dean,” Cas said thoughtfully and that sent Dean’s heart plummeting right out through his feet. Way to fuck up that friendship, huh? He opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ , to get out of the conversation and try to take back his previous words when Cas’s next words stopped him cold. “Because I’d really like to be kissing you during it.”

“Uh, what?” Dean asked eloquently, mind locking on the image of Cas kissing him and freezing there. And hell if that didn’t wake up parts of him that had been asleep for a long time. “Seriously?”

“Yes, Dean, seriously,” Cas replied, laughing. “While I do enjoy sarcasm, and employ it on occasion, now is not one of those times. When will you be back at the bunker?”

“Uh, tomorrow?” Dean replied, mind still stuck. Hey, at least he was able to get a three-syllable word out this time. 

“Tomorrow then, Dean,” Cas said, making the words sound more like a promise than a simple sentence. The line clicked as Cas hung up. Dean set his phone back on the nightstand, the squirmy feeling back in his belly. It felt like it was joined by about a million butterflies, all fluttering up against his insides.

“Tomorrow,” Dean repeated, whispering the word with reverence. Settling back down, he smiled to himself as he mouthed the word again. He fell asleep a few minutes after that, for once having a dreamless rest. On the other bed, Sam opened his eyes to look at his brother. A pleased smile danced about his lips as he watched Dean breathe deeply in sleep. It was about damn time.


End file.
